


Game Over

by animechik16



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Drinking to Cope, Explicit Language, Gen, Jealousy, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animechik16/pseuds/animechik16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever felt depressed? Insecure? Unable to do things when people needed them or because that simply wasn't you? Have you ever needed help so badly that you didn't know who to turn to? If so, then please enter this world. The second players have already joined. Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Like Any Other Day...

Present Day

Time: 11:43 A.M.

It’s always the same.

First, Alfred shouts out his ideas. Next, Arthur adds his sarcastic commentary. Then, Francis says something crude, leading into a fight amongst himself and Arthur. Soon after, Ludwig would take control and get everyone on track again. All the while, my efforts would go unnoticed.

Sighing, I overlook what we’ve gone over so far. We started a few hours ago, yet we have only been able to cover America’s problems. Hopefully we will get to other matters that are more important than discussing on if we should increase the size of every McDonald’s cup globally. Lazily packing my things, I head for the exit. Once Alfred announced for a break, everyone headed for the door. Politely, I opened it for Yao as he continued to bicker about the “stupid” meeting. The other attendees quickly followed him out, not so much as passing me a glance or saying thank you, as usual. Sighing once more, I trailed after the last few who exited. Alfred spoke vividly to those next to him, smiling at them as they agreed with whatever he said. At least the host believed the meeting was going well. Once outside, I looked for a place to eat. I walked to the closest one since driving in New York City was pointless. At least everything you need is within a few blocks.

Restaurants, even some like McDonald’s, are a hassle for me. Getting in line usually isn’t too bad, but if it’s really busy, people tend to cut me because I’m practically invisible. Gilbert eventually stepped in and stood up for me. He tends to travel with his brother for the meetings, but doesn’t actually go to any; He’s more like a tourist. He sometimes eats with me when he feels like it. I ordered a simple sandwich and grabbed a seat near the door. He sat with me, not eating, only yapping about how his awesome self would always help those in need of his amazing presence. I quietly ate my meal in silence as he continued his one-way conversation. I was glad he helped me, but after a while he can become a bit overwhelming. I thanked him as we parted ways, heading back to the main building for our meeting.

Arriving early, I took out the necessary items for the last few hours. Hopefully, someone would bring everyone’s attention to our global problems that have yet to be dealt with. After some time, they all came shuffling back in.

Every time it’s the same.

First, Alfred would yell his ideas for the next topic. Next, Arthur would scold him for the ridiculous plan that would be utterly impossible or ineffective. Then, Francis would mock them both, leading into another argument. Sometimes Yao or Russia would say what they felt needed to be said and then immediately after Ludwig would take command again.

I just wish for something different to happen once in a while. Change can’t be that bad, right?

Once the meeting ended, I headed for my hotel. There will be a few more throughout the week and then we get to go back home. No matter where we go though there will always be work for us to do. Every day is a continuous cycle of working, arguing, and negotiating. Oh well.

Anyway, I got to my hotel and sat in the lobby. Alfred quickly spotted me since he was chatting with a few other members that were staying in the same hotel as me. He invited me to dinner and I accepted. We walked over to the dining area and seated ourselves at an empty table. A waiter scurried over, handing us some menus, asking what we would like to drink. Alfred asked for a soda, I just wanted a water. After jotting down our beverages, the waiter left.

“So how’s my bro?” He was looking from his phone to me back to his phone.

“All right.”

Alfred glanced up, concentrating on my face. He tends to do this when he thinks I’m upset. He’s usually right half the time but he’s not too bright when it comes to actually doing something about it. I gave him a gentle smile to reassure him and he bought it.

“That’s great!” He flashed me a toothy grin before continuing. “The meeting went pretty well, huh?” I didn’t answer since I knew honesty wouldn’t help. Alfred was not a very productive host but I didn’t want to be the one who told him. Instead I nodded, he then proceeded the conversation and somehow led into the subject of superheroes. I groaned at the mention of the word “hero”. Alfred was absolutely obsessed with them, always going on about how he would one day save the world. I sometimes question his sanity, he may not understand that he can’t fly or suddenly formulate a way to solve all of the world’s troubles at the same time.

“Matthew?”

I noticed the waiter was back with our drinks and wanted to know what we’d like to eat. I fumbled with the menu and quickly came up with a response, “The steak, please.”

“And how would you like that cooked?”

“Um, medium well.” He nodded and left again. I quietly sipped my water as Alfred began to stare at me. “What?”

“Why were you all spaced out?” He seemed generally concerned but I didn’t see anything wrong. I shrugged and changed the topic.

“So what is the next conference going to be about?”

“I’m glad you asked!” And with that he gave me all of the details about how he wanted to converse on the other conflicts America has been through recently. I tried to convince him that maybe we should focus on the international struggles and then get back to America’s later if we have time. He almost gave in until he saw our food placed in front of us and thus forgot the last twenty-seconds of our conversation. He dug in into his meal while I slowly enjoyed mine. 

After dinner, Alfred said goodbye and headed to his home in the city while I walked to the hotel and went up to my room. I crashed into my bed once I got undressed. I fell asleep soon after feeling the warmth of the bedsheets.


	2. The News of an Old...Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred seems a bit distracted. What could possibly be going through his mind?

Red; all I can see is red. It is hot, boiling, and it began to devour my being. I am surrounded, no escape. I try to walk around, but I’m stuck. My body is heavy as lead. It feels like I’m melting, the heat overcoming me. I start sinking, something is pulling me down below the surface. I can barely see over the edge. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of someone standing tall in front of me. They’re laughing, cackling as they push me further down.

“Alfred?”

I wake with a jolt. The beeping of my alarm goes off and I’m sweating all over. What was that? I kept asking myself questions until I realized I already forgot what the dream was about. Shrugging off the covers, I head for the bathroom. I began my daily routine: brushing my teeth, using the toilet, and brushing my hair. Once that was done, I walked downstairs for the complimentary continental breakfast. I filled my plate with a few muffins and a bagel. After spreading the cream cheese onto the bagel, I got up from my table to grab a cup of coffee. I added a couple of creamers and a sugar packet before filling it to the brim with maple syrup. I sat back down with my coffee, munching on my bagel, and occasionally sipping my drink.

 _Ping_. A loud chime rang throughout the breakfast room, signaling glances from the other hotel guests. Flustered, I searched for the source while apologizing for the disruption. I scrambled through my pockets for my phone, accidentally bumping into my coffee and spilling it in the process. Burning from both pain of the liquid and the heat of my cheeks from my embarrassment, I quickly pulled out my phone and lowered its volume. Folding it open, I checked my emails and missed calls. Both were empty, leaving me confused as to why it - _Ping_. I stared at my phone for a minute. _Ping_. I clicked the center button to take me to the home screen. A white box was flashing, showing that I had three, - _Ping_ \- four now, text messages. I tried to think of who it could be since everyone just calls me and by everyone I mean Alfred, my boss, and sometimes Francis. I maneuvered the controls to get me to the message inbox. My pet’s phone number appeared and I checked to see what he sent, he’s only supposed to use it for emergencies.

 _Hey_. The first one was a harmless greeting. This small, silly text made me jump out of my skin and scorch myself with my morning beverage.  _When are you coming home?_ I was glad to see he missed me but I put the date of my return on the calendar. Then, I put the calendar on the fridge so he could see. _What do you want for dinner?_ This puzzled me for a moment; he’s never cooked before, let alone for someone else. He also doesn’t eat most of the food I like besides fish or pancakes. Siri must’ve misheard him. The last text answered most of my brewing questions. _Come home soon. This stupid bear can’t appreciate good cooking._ I laughed a little at this.

Thinking of what to say, I replied. _I’ll be home tonight. Salmon sounds great. Please get along until I return. Don’t give Kuma any sweets, only what I put on the list on the countertop._ After the message sent, I flipped my phone close. I finished my breakfast and climbed back up the stairs. I threw away the coffee cup after finishing the few drops that were left. I showered and quickly changed into new clothes. Throwing the coffee-stained suit into a bag, I planned to wash it once I got home. I checked my phone for the time. Cursing, I ran down the stairs. I clutched onto my satchel as I jumped into my car and rushed onto the main road.

Arriving at the main building, I ran in and down the hall to the conference room. Once I caught my breath, I quietly opened the door, stepped inside, and found my seat. “Matthew? Why are you so late?” Francis was looking right at me, announcing my lateness to everyone. Some of the members seemed surprised; they most likely forgot I was supposed to be here.

“Well, he’s here now. Let’s proceed with the meeting, shall we?” Alfred got right back to business. Ludwig passed me his notes and I quickly copied them. They detailed of what I had missed in the last hour and I was shocked as to how much they got through. Alfred was hosting like there was no tomorrow. Arthur only commented on how his plans could be improved. The other members only spoke when they had something useful to say. We ended the meeting earlier than I thought possible. There were no breaks and no one was messing around the entire time.

Alfred came up to me, bragging about how great he hosted, and was back to his usual self. I pinched my cheek and contemplated that maybe a slap would suffice. This had to be another dream. “Mattie? You okay?”

“What motivated you?” I turned to him.

“What?” He stood still, unsure of how to respond.

“What made you want to be a good host?” I know he can be serious. I know he has good business points. But this, this completely focused switch that went off, was something else entirely.

“I don’t know,” he paused, ”I just thought, you know, global issues were important.” Bingo. There it was, a dead giveaway. Alfred loves America. He cannot shut up about America. Yet today, he was talking about politics and issues that were happening all over the world. He practically avoided saying his own country’s name when he could. He wanted to avoid something. He kept staring at the dial phone, that connected us directly to his boss, throughout the meeting as if it was going to ring at any moment.

“Okay.” I’d find out sooner or later about what he’s hiding.

“Great, so do you want to grab lunch or book an earlier flight home?”

“Both.” I led him to my car and he suggested a local diner. I pulled out my laptop from the trunk and scheduled a new time for my flight home. I ordered a soup while Alfred got the New York style pizza. We chatted for a bit and I wasn’t really planning on questioning his efficient yet unusual behavior from this morning. However as his closest family member, he felt the sudden need to confide in me.

“Mattie, you probably have the nicest boss in the world.” He grumbled this and then began chugging his soda, waiting for me to retort.

“We can’t really compare since I’ve never met yours nor you mine.”

“But Mattie,” he whined, “has yours ever wanted you to do something you were absolutely terrified of doing?”

I scrunched my eyebrows in concern, “What does he want you to do?”

He whimpered as he thought of his inevitable peril. “Nothing.” He was the hero, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything. Letting his brother see him as a shivering mess was probably wrinkling his self-esteem.

“Alfred,” I took his hands into mine in hopes of comforting of him, “you can tell me.”

He nodded, leaning towards me, and whispering, “ I have to meet with him.”

“Who?”

“Allen.”

Usually I wouldn’t be so distressed. I would tell him he’s being ridiculous, but I’ve met Allen so I can understand why my big, strong brother is shaking like a Chihuahua. He’s caused so many American disasters. Allen was cunning and mischievous, tricking those with power into violent riots. He’s left many marks in the history: assassinations, witch trials, and so much more. He broke into the stock market and destroyed the order, resulting in the Great Depression. Allen is the villain while Alfred played the hero. Allen the brains and Alfred the brawn. When they worked together, they could accomplish anything. For example, the American Revolution. They are complete opposites but they didn’t like being ruled over. Unfortunately, Allen got a little too confident and started the civil war. It’s been 50 years since anyone has seen him. Alfred’s boss, back in the 60’s, kept Allen on a tight leash. No one wanted Allen to have any influence on the movements that were taking place. Soon after, they moved him into an underground bunker. He became a prisoner. Later, he was classified as a weapon and the bosses, throughout the years, used him as they saw fit to aid America. “I see.” I didn’t really know what to say. “Maybe you two can catch up, you never know, maybe he’s gotten better.”

“Better? Are you serious? He’s insane! He hates me! He probably hates more now since we’ve imprisoned him. What if he gets freed? What if-“ Alfred was becoming hysterical so I quickly slapped him. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“Are you calm now?”

“I guess.” He still looked pretty shaken up about the whole thing.

“If you really don’t want to do it, try to convince your boss to have someone else talk to him.” I didn’t want him to start crying in the middle of lunch.

“Do you really think he’ll listen to me?” Alfred peered up at me, nibbling on the last bit of his pizza.

“Only if you try. You tried being a good host and it worked, right?” I tried to think of ways to cheer him up.

“Yeah but now I have no work to do. I have all of this free time and if I’m not distracted, I keep thinking about it.”

“Maybe you can invite a friend over and hang out with them. That could take your mind off of Al, I mean him.”

“You’re a genius, Mattie! So how about it?” He gripped my hands tighter as if I had the strength to pull away.

“What?”

“A sleepover! Just like the old days!” He beamed at me. Alfred was unaware of how the last time we had a sleepover, I did not have fun. He beat me at every game and he pranked me while I was asleep because I was used to going to sleep earlier, thus not used to staying up for hours on end. When we were little, we used to share the bed during sleepovers. I soon learned how hard he could kick in his sleep. I politely declined his tempting offer and suggested a different victim.

“What about Tony?”

“Oh yeah! I can call him up later. Mattie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for listening to me.” He gave me a grateful smile and we split the bill.

“You’re welcome. That’s what family is for.” I grinned. We drove back to the main building for his car. Alfred waved good-bye as he headed home. I waved back and went back to the hotel for the last time.


	3. A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending time with the people you care about can be fun. You just need to appreciate every moment even the little ones.

I took a short nap on the plane, though it was quite difficult with the crying baby. Once we landed, I grabbed my bags and strode toward the parking lot. I found my car with ease and proceeded my journey home. I was glad to see the house still intact and not on fire. I let myself in and called out, “I’m home.”

Kuma, my pet polar bear, hugged me upon first sight. Leading the way into the dining area, he sat me down at the table. He plopped into his usual place until a voice from the kitchen commanded him to set the table. Kuma, also known as Kumajiro, went and got the dishes and utensils we would be using for dinner. He used his paws to eat so he only grabbed a two forks and knives. With the table prepared, the bear sat down again.

“Get Matthew a beverage,” the voice said.

Kuma huffed but turned to me and asked, “What do you want to drink?”

“Water is fine.” It was a bit nice to see Kuma so well-mannered. I always do everything around here so seeing my lazy pet doing something was extremely entertaining. He came back with two glasses filled with water and a bottle of pop. “Thanks.” Kuma nodded in response.

“Dinner is ready.” A rugged-looking replica of myself appeared, carrying a pan of cooked salmon. James scooped the fish on to each of our plates before going back to the kitchen to retrieve the side dishes. He returned with two bowls, one of steamed vegetables and the other filled with biscuits. Kuma glared at the food until James passed him a look. Kuma ate without complaint, even the vegetables.

“What did you do?” Kuma barely listened to me at all so I was curious as to what James had up his sleeve to keep the control.

“If he behaved, I promised to make him a pie of his favorite berries tomorrow.” I didn’t know a bribe could be so effective. I thanked him for looking after my pet and he said it was nothing.

Dinner was quiet and we started chatting after he cleaned up. We sat in the living room, on a couple of chairs, while Kuma took over the couch and television. We talked about work and our hobbies. I wanted to go somewhere on the weekend and James suggested the woods for a camping trip. I liked the idea so I called my boss to ask for a free weekend. We were able to plan out the details until evening. Kuma was the first to fall asleep so I picked him up, carrying him to his bed. I invited James to stay another night and sleep in the guest room. He agreed as I persisted. I wandered through the hall, dragging my luggage and satchel into my room. I unpacked the clothes and put the dirty ones into the washer. I went straight to bed after brushing my teeth.

I couldn’t sleep. My brain kept thinking about Alfred and his troubles, it wouldn’t shut up about everything that could happen. Will Allen be set free? Is Alfred going to put in danger by his boss? Are there others that going to be let off? My mind drifted off to everyone’s other halves. Allen, Alfred’s lankier and veggie eater alter ego, had a mind of a genius. He was a strategist and could solve any problem in seconds.

James, my best friend, was a great cook and loved the outdoors. He tended to be protective of me and spoiled me every chance he got. He also taught to stand up for myself, which led to the burning of the White House in the war of 1812. Anyway my point is that James is the most tame out of all the counterparts.

Oliver is the nicer version of Arthur and an amazing baker, but he has attempted to poison the queen and has been proved to be insane; he’s a harmless bundle of joy. The rest of them as far as I know are completely evil and have shown their power relentlessly in times of war. Flavio, Romano’s more expressive side, is the only one I think is normal. He can be lethal when angered but all he’s ever done is design the outfits for the military. 

Based on history, I’ve learned to avoid the counterparts except my own. I kept about the possible situations that could happen if the counterparts were eventually freed but after a while my brain shut down and I fell asleep.

I awoke to the smell of pancakes. I waddled to kitchen, still half-asleep. I sat at the kitchen’s bar and a mug was placed in front of me. I gratefully accepted the warm coffee and sipped it, it was perfect.

“Good morning,” James said as he flipped the pancakes onto their paler side.

“Morning,” I replied, smiling with the mug heating my hands as I held it.

Kuma yawned, entering the room, and climbing into the barstool next to me. James served the pancakes onto three plates and put them on the tabletop. Kuma eagerly dug in while I drowned my stack in maple syrup. James walked around the corner and sat in his seat, enjoying his share of breakfast.

After eating, we took a drive to the local camping supply store. I’ve rarely gone camping so I let James pick out the items we would need. It was fun trying out the tents and looking at the different sleeping bags. Kuma stuck close to us, he was frightened of the hunting section. We also checked out the fishing area and picked out a few poles. After buying the supplies, we went to the grocery store. Kuma had a list of berries he wanted in his pie but James told him to pick only three. Kuma chose blackberries, Saskatoon berries, and Sea-buckthorn berries. Once we finished shopping for all the ingredients for the pie, we headed home. We passed the time with a few board games and ate dinner on the floor until we got bored with playing.

We all went to the kitchen to get started on Kuma’s berry pie, I pulled out some bowls, measuring tools, and mixing utensils we would need. Kuma washed the berries and James read parts of the recipe aloud.

“First, we have to make the dough. Can someone grab the flour?” James mixed the salt and sugar together.

“Got it.” I opened the bag of white powder and plopped it in front of the main cook. “Oops, sorry.” The bag was sensitive so when I dropped it, the flour bursted up and some of it landed on James’s face.

Wiping his face, he slowly faced me, “It’s okay. Next time please be careful.” We heard a quiet chuckle. “What are you laughing at?”

Kuma hushed instantly but held his smile, “Nothing.” He placed the berries into a bowl, trying to not think of James’s powdered face. James went back to mixing the ingredients for the dough and then he kneaded the dough into a ball. After cutting the ball in half, he rolled the dough into two discs. He wrapped the discs in plastic foil and placed them into the fridge. He heated the oven to the temperature necessary and then told me how to prepare the berry filling. As soon as the filling was done, James tasted it. He smeared some of it onto Kuma’s nose as a payback for laughing at him earlier, but Kuma simply licked it and giggled. The pie was put together, baked, and eaten in minutes. James went home afterwards, he would return for the trip but didn’t want to prolong his stay at my house. Kuma thanked him for the pie and I hugged him good-bye. I couldn’t wait for the weekend.


	4. A Refreshing Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen is back, but is his intelligence useful to him when he knows nothing about the world of today?

Welcome to my world of isolation. I have lived in this cemented, underground bunker for over 45 years. I count the years through the fireworks that I see from my window. I have a window with bars and a secured door right next to it on the ceiling. Every January and July, the guards blew up gunpowder as their way of celebrating the holidays. Every decade, these guards changed. It didn’t matter whether they were relocated or not since none of them ever talked to me. This led me to conversing with myself. I don’t have anything to entertain me except a book, War and Peace. I’ve read it a few times and then got bored with it. I’m stuck in here no matter I do. 

I was placed here back in 1968. The boss of that time had a lot of trouble with all the movements going on. He locked me away after some colored man got assassinated for fighting for equal rights. He didn’t want me to encourage a negative influence any of the movements. So here I am with a few other things: a window, a toilet, a sink, a book, a bed, and a door. Nothing is mine, not since I’ve labeled as a “weapon”. I am fed three grody (1) meals a day. When it rains, my window is covered. When it’s nighttime, I am given a couple of blankets. I sleep on a mattress that hasn’t been replaced for decades. My physique has changed since I’ve been working out but once I get bored or too stinky, I get into gymnastics. I used to be super scrawny but after so much time of hanging loose, one will change hobbies. I can’t get too toned since the guards won’t give me weights. It’s pretty hard to become stronger when the food isn’t very nutritious. I keep telling them I’m a vegetarian but they never listen. My hair has grown to my shoulder blades, cutting it with a flimsy knife is such a pain. Sometimes I’m thinking of ways to escape but I can’t dig my way out with plastic utensils. I’ve tried breaking out through the door, but every month the security system on it improves. At first it was a combination lock, so cracking it from the inside was tricky. Time passed and the locks got more gnarly (2).

I can’t walk around in my birthday suit so they gave three pairs of the same coveralls. They never let me shower though. I’d kill for a bath. I hope today rains. The sun is coming out but I don’t see any clouds. It’s dawn and I have spent another night alone. My mind never turns off so I nap throughout the day. I can’t do that today because I have a visitor or so I was told. A few hours passed and eventually the door unlocked. An armed guard walked in, placing my morning meal on the ground. He didn’t greet me or smile. He just did his job and then went back up, locking the door. I got up from my bed and looked at the tray: two pieces of toast, an orange juice, and just to spite me, a few strips of bacon. I picked up the bacon and threw it out the window.

“Real funny guys!” I shouted. I grabbed the tray and took it to my bed, sitting down and putting on my lap. I drank the juice and ate one toast. Saving the other for later, I waited. Hours went by and I got anxious. I knew Alfred liked to sleep in but it seemed rude of him to make me wait any longer than I already have. He’s never once visited before so why is today so special? Are they at war? Did Alfred manage to piss off another country that much? An engine could be heard in the distance. The car neared my location and stopped right on top of my window, the nerve. The guards told the driver to move the car and he did. A few words spoken but I couldn’t catch much. None of them sounded like Alfred. They started to talk about me so maybe he was still in the car. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about seeing my twin after so long. The door clicked open and to my disappointment, a middle-aged man stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones,” he said this to me as if I were his pet.

“Afternoon, chrome dome (3),” I smirked. The guy was obviously wearing a toupee.

“Excuse me?” He seemed genuinely confused by my comment.

“Nothing. Please, carry on.” I decided to listen to whatever it is he had yet to say.

He coughed before continuing, “I would like to start by introducing myself. My name is Steve Carson. I work for the FBI as a criminal psychologist. I tried to find your file but it seems that you have not committed any illegal actions in the past 40 years. I am here because the government believes that you have changed. That being said, they still don’t completely trust you for classified reasons. Since your record is currently clean, they want to make sure that you’ll keep it that way. But that’s only if you get freed and that will depend on my jurisdiction. To start, the government wants your word as a man that you will not go against the law. In addition, you will be under security protection until you prove your trust to America.”

“And there’s the catch,” I mutter. “All right, Stevey. I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” I recite this, placing my right hand over my heart and the other hand behind my back, crossing my fingers.

“I guess that’ll do for now," he shrugged. "Please come with me. I have a few tests I’d like for you to take.” With that, he walked up the steps and left the door open. He told the guards to not bug me. I quickly ate the rest of my toast before following him. If escaping this place was as easy as saying the Pledge of Allegiance, I wish someone notified me years ago. That or the government really needs me. As I covered my eyes from the sun, I looked around the area I’ve been stuck in. A few things were added: an electric fence around the perimeter, a base for the guards, and a few cars that were bulkier than I remember. The five guards that have looked over me for the past seven years, stood in a row.

“You guys are total spazzes (4), but thanks for seeing me off, later.” I jumped into the backseat of the fancy black car and we drove off. Stevey talked about what I had to for the tests and where we were going, meanwhile I stared out the window or observed the improvements in the car. The air conditioner works a lot better now. The seats were also quite comfy. I remained curious about the from of the car but a black window obscured my view. Once Stevey figured out that I was going to ignore him for the rest of the ride, he hushed. It was a long drive.

After seven hours of staring at the scenery, we finally reached a city, Washington, DC, the capital city of America. This served as the FBI’s headquarters. We reached the main building in little time and went through a series of security checks. Everyone acknowledged Stevey as Agent Carson. Mr. Chrome Dome sure is popular. There were also a lot of secretaries, more women than I’ve seen in one building all at once. Stevey led me to his office, it was simple with a few chairs and a big desk to hold his papers and a small metal folder. It had some company logo on it so maybe it was special. It was laying down, but at the same time, standing up. Stevey tapped some buttons on it and stored it away in a bag. Then, he pulled out his briefcase and started with an inkblot test. Later, he gave me an IQ test. I took it with ease, but not all-out. I got a score of 148. Stevey seemed impressed and proceeded with an oral exam. I liked messing with him by replying with cheeky answers.

“Mr. Jones, I’m going to ask you a few questions. Please answer them truthfully.” He flipped through some cards until he found one he liked. He looked up at me, waiting for a response.

“Lay it on me (5), Stevey.” I slouched in the chair and flashed him a grin. I wanted to get out of here and shower.

“First off, What is your full name?” He got out a pen and paper. He wrote down the date, probably to start a new file for me.

“Allen Jones,” I saw him scribble it down before he turned to another card.

“Where do you reside?” He looked completely serious.

“I don’t have a home. I was imprisoned in Chapmanville, West Virginia on Carter Branch Rd. for the past 47 years. I haven’t stepped out of my bunker ever since 1968.”

Most people wouldn’t believe me, but Stevey just wrote it down. Most likely, someone informed him of our way of life, Alfred’s and mine.

“And during your imprisonment, did you ever disobey the law enforcement assigned there?”

“I didn’t eat my bacon.” I held a smug smile, answering the question.

“I see. You are a vegetarian, I assume?” I nodded and he jotted down more notes. “How old are you, Mr. Jones?”

“More than 240 years, that’s for sure.” I glanced at the American flag standing on his shelf. It took a lot of time to form 50 states but it produced some good memories.

“Lastly, what do you remember?” That almost made me snap. As if there is a time I don’t think about that day. It’s been scarred into my mind ever since.

“What do I remember? What don’t I remember? Name anything that happened during 60’s and I was there. There were parades, riots, and speeches every week. Parties happened for the sake of partying. Hippies got into this groovy thing called free love. Drugs were the new alcohol. Women were wearing the most revealing clothes I’ve ever seen. Colored folk were fighting for better wages, treatment, and rights. So much was going on, who wouldn’t want to join in on the fun? My boss didn’t want me to be any where near the movements so I was moved into a bunker. He called me a weapon. And that was it. No more Allen.” I would have loved to rant about my old boss. How he saw no use for me unless we were at war. Alfred didn’t say anything, he didn’t try to save me. I almost asked Stevey if he ever met Alfred. The guy goes around saying he’s a hero but where was he when his brother needed him, nowhere.

“Do you remember the Woodstock Festival in 1969?” Stevey was genuinely interested in how much I knew.

“1969? Stevey, I said I was locked away in ’68. I wasn’t there. Why? What happened?” I hoped I didn’t miss an attack.

“Woodstock was a festival and a concert. It was said to be incredibly wild, filled with hippies, rock and roll, drugs, and free love. My parents went to it when they were teens and barely told me anything about it until I got older.” He seemed to be in a daze. I knew I should’ve been pissed, missing out the baddest (6) concert, but it was the past and too late for me. “Anyway, your provider will be here shortly. Thank you for your cooperation.” He packed the notes away into his briefcase.

“Provider?”

The door to the office opened, “Hello, Allen.” A frightened Alfred stood there, his hands fiddling together. “Thanks for everything, Agent Carson. Is he ok to…?” Stevey nodded and Alfred sighed in relief.

“Alfred? What’s going on?” I passed the test but I didn’t sign up for this.

“Our new boss wants us to get along, so I’m here to take you home.” He chuckled nervously. Stevey kicked us out of his office and Alfred walked beside me. “I know a lot of things have changed since back then, so I want you to count on me to help you learn about everything.” He held out his hand once we reached the exit. I squeezed his hand before strolling out into the evening breeze. I heard a small “ow” and I smirked.

“Here’s my car,” Alfred pointed to a car that looked like a corvette. “Come in, get in.” He started the engine but I didn’t see him put the key into the engine starter. I slid into the passenger seat and saw the differences between now and then immediately.

“Hey, Alfred?”

“Yeah?” Alfred seemed scared, but didn’t flinch when I got closer.

“Where’s the eight-track tape player?”

(1) Grody: gross, disgusting  
(2) Gnarly: difficult  
(3) Chrome dome: a bald man  
(4) Spazz: a jerk or a put down for someone acting retarded  
(5) Lay it on me: tell me or speak your piece  
(6) Bad: awesome


	5. Getting to know you and the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Minor offensive language
> 
> A/N: To keep it simple, Allen will be a vegetarian. Not a vegan. I also apologize for the offensive language, but it can only get worse from here on. I also apologize for my lack of knowledge on the behavior of the American President. All I see nowadays is the Presidential candidates. I also am sorry about the lack of accuracy and detail on historical events.
> 
> Thank you for reading. If you have any tips on how to write Oliver or Arthur, I would love to hear them.

This may be the only time Alfred’s life where he is actually smarter than me. Though it will not last long. I will soon learn everything I need to know about the technology of today and anything else that may have changed during these past years. The first thing I need to learn about is the car we are currently in. Alfred explained to me the improvements in power and speed as well as some new features like bluetooth. I’m still not sure what the last is. Why would anyone want colored teeth? He showed me how the car works, along with the new stereo and adjustable seats. I liked how the radio had more options and the turntable record got smaller, so now it’s called a CD. The sound was clear and I was impressed by how many things had improved over the years.

Alfred was trying too hard to converse with me. His voice often got shaky or his eyes would wander off the road. We haven’t crashed yet, but if I move too suddenly toward him he tends to flinch. I know I had a lot of free time to kill being imprisoned, but I’m not that buff-looking. During the drive, Alfred explained to me what has happened over the decades.

“…and then when we hit 21st century we got attacked by terrorists and after that-“

“Wait! Terrorists? Who? Where? What did they do?” I asked excitedly. I muttered to myself that I would’ve given anything to see it with my own eyes.

“Oh, um, 9/11? That’s what we call it since that’s the day it happened. They hijacked a few of our planes, crashed them, and killed over 3,000 people. They used the planes to take out the tallest buildings in New York and the Pentagon. It took us a while to find them, but we got them eventually.” His hands clenched the wheel as he narrowed his eyes onto the road. “So now we have a better security system for the airports. Hopefully, it doesn’t happen again.”

I could tell he was traumatized by this event. This is the first time we’ve been attacked on our own soil since Pearl Harbor.

Alfred sighed and loosened his grip as he glanced at me hysterically. “So how have you been?”

I tried to not come up with a smartass reply, but it was too easy, “Oh you know, sleeping all day staring at cement walls and practically drowning during the flooding season. It’s so wonderful being trapped in a room ten feet underground for decades.” I smiled mischievously at him while Alfred took his time trying to realize if I was being sarcastic or not. He just smiled anxiously and turned on a corner, nearing our destination.

“Ya know, I did try to get you out of there, There was just so much going on and everyone wanted peace. So the bosses never let me. But this new boss is pretty cool! He’s pretty laid back and got a lot of stuff done, like getting rid of terrorists and creating new rights such as equal marriage.”

“Equal marriage?” I was confused at the new term. I thought interracial marriages were already allowed.

“Oh yeah, um, it’s kind of hard to explain with all of the terms they have nowadays. Simply put, any person can marry another person, even if they are the same sex.” He grinned at the thought of the recent Supreme Court decision. 

“You mean, fags can get hitched?” I bawled out in laughter. Back when I was around, being gay was like being a witch during the 1600’s. You could get killed for who you loved. If that was legal and socially acceptable, what else was possible?

“Allen you can’t call them that, it’s offensive.” He huffed and made a sharp turn onto a road filled with farms.

“Oh, do my words hurt your feelings? So I can’t say a few words, what about nigger?” I laid back on the chair. As if the most popular word in the south would be taken away.

“You definitely can’t say that.” He tensed at the word.

“And why the hell not?” I didn’t mean to shout, but all these new rules about language were very restricting.

“You’ll see in the morning.” He shook his head and pulled into the driveway.

His home was a large one-story farmhouse. He had a small, white fence that created the perimeter of the land, a shack, and a barn next to a huge in-ground pool. The front yard was covered in American flags ranging in different sizes, surrounding the plants and trees. Alfred walked up to the door and pushed in the key, turning and opening it. He went back to the car and grabbed a briefcase from the trunk, beckoning me to follow him. I got out of the car and glanced around the yard, noticing Alfred’s gardening skills hadn’t diminished. He certainly had a knack for plants. I headed inside and stood in awe of the interior. The large living room was like a theater, holding a large and thin screen on the wall. The kitchen was on the left side, a luxurious island stood in the center with barstools on the end. The marbled counters spread across the room, leading my eye to the cabinets and appliances. The stove was more futuristic than I had remembered. The black counter with a flat top outlining four white circles. 

“Oh, it’s electric.” Alfred noticed my stare as I admired the design of today’s technology. “It works the same way, just be sure not to touch the top after you’re done using it. I did that once and slightly burned my hand, haha.”

I noticed the fridge had also gotten bigger. I opened it to see the enormous amount of storage space and similar shelving from back in the day. I walked back to the living room and pointed at the thin, but large screen on the wall.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“That’s a television.” Alfred looked proud in buying the latest tech of today.

“That’s a television! It’s huge! How many channels can it hold? Where’s the dial to change them? Is it remote-controlled?” Our bosses from the 50’s loved to spoil Alfred in order to get him to agree on their political decisions during the whole communism phase with Russia and North Korea. He always had the newest toys of the entertainment industry. Speaking of toys, Alfred had his own metal folder, similar to Stevey’s, on the coffee table in front of the couches. I sat down and pointed at the folder.

“What’s this?” I stared at the folder until Alfred opened it.

The metal folder held its position at a ninety-degree angle, showing a television screen on the vertical, upright side and a simplistic typewriter on the bottom with more buttons than I remember there than I once knew. Alfred pushed a button on the upper right corner of the bottom side and it began to glow a bright white. There was a small humming sound as the screen turned white and appeared to be operating on something. Alfred then laid his finger on square pad engraved into the contraption. The screen turned black and then a small arrow-like object appeared. As Alfred moved his finger on the pad, the arrow moved. The display turned into a faded American flag and showed Alfred’s face smiling. Below his face trapped in a circle was a bar labeled “Password”. Alfred maneuvered the arrow into the bar and pressed down, making a small click. He quickly used the fancy typewriter to fill the box and pressed on the “Enter/Return” key. The screen then blacked out once more before showing a clearer version of the American flag and several objects covering the flag.

“This is a computer. An electronic device that can be used for anything! Such as storing items for business, like documents, pictures, and anything else that is important to you.” He swerved the arrow over an object that looked like a small manila folder, it was labeled “work”. He pressed on the pad twice and a smaller screen appeared, listing a number of dates, reports, and ideas filled with large letters (He later tells me about the caps lock button). He exited out of the small screen and moved the mouse to the bottom of the display. A new bar popped up and several logos were on it, none that I knew. Alfred clicked on one that looked like a compass and it opened a new display of a file called “Google”.

“This is Safari, otherwise known as the internet. You can learn anything on here. The computer helps you complete many tasks, but the internet is something else entirely. Google is an engine that helps guide you through the internet. The internet can be explored for knowledge, true and false, or for funny videos.” He typed “youtube” into the bar under the Google logo and pressed the enter key. The file transferred into a long list of detailed items. “These are websites,” he pointed to the larger blue texts. “They can show you films, facts, and well, just think of anything human and mostly legal and you’ll get the idea.” He clicked on the text titled “YouTube” and the screen changed again into an array of pictures. Each showed their title, time, and other numbers that I didn’t know the purpose of. He typed in “funny cat videos” and clicked on a random one. “See? You can find anything on here!” He yawned and got up from the couch. “It’s getting late and we have to leave early tomorrow. Let me show you to your room. I usually lend the guest room out to Tonny, but he left pretty recently. And I usually don’t have a place this nice, but the new boss is awesome.”

“Tonny? You mean that creepy alien? You still let him hang around here? I’m surprised he hasn’t destroyed this planet after meeting you,” I snickered. 

“Hey! He’s not creepy, he’s cool. Besides, we made a deal. If he doesn’t destroy earth, he can play video games with me!”

“Yeah, we’re doomed,” I smirked. Alfred sighed and led the way to the guest room. He took another look at me before an idea came to him.

“We have so much to do! You have no clothes! We also need to tidy you up a bit,” he stared at my hair. I knew I wasn’t a professional stylist, but how was I supposed to make a perfect cut without a mirror. “Well, let’s start with a shower and, until we have time for the mall, you can borrow my clothes. The bed is a little old, but it’s tempurpedic and very soft. See you in the morning!” He flashed his infamous smile before leaving me with my own room.

“Anything’s better than that creaky mattress from my bunker.” I took my time in the shower, enjoying the warm water and soap. It felt so good to be clean. I walked back to the living room and picked up the computer. It was much lighter than I expected. I took it to my room and researched the history of the past 50 years with the internet. After memorizing the politicians from other countries of the world today and their views, I researched technology. There was so much happening, similar to the industrial revolution, but with electricity and machines to make life simpler. The bed was extremely comfortable and I fell asleep once I finished updating myself of today’s world, how it came to be, and how it could end.

“Good morning, Allen!” Throwing open the curtains, Alfred let in the sunlight and walked over to me.

“Agh…” I was never a morning person, but I knew who was. I rolled around in the warm covers before sitting up. Alfred was staring at the computer at the end of the bed.

“Hey, Allen, um, what did you need the computer for?” He glanced at me nervously.

“I was just curious about the world of today so I did some research on it with safari,” I told him honestly.

“Oh, well, be sure to ask, okay? I have some important files on there and I wouldn’t want you to um…”

“To what? Delete them? Mess with them? Find out something I’m not supposed to? It’s not like you have the nuclear codes on there.” I checked.

“Oh, yeah, haha. I was just being paranoid, sorry. But I would appreciate it if you could ask for my permission.” He pronounced more sternly.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to do that next time.” I’d only have to do that if he turns it off and then I would have to know the password.

“So what would you like for breakfast? We can find something on our way to the White House.” He pulled a rectangular device and pushed a button on the top.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this is a phone. It’s more like a mini computer, though. It can do everything a computer can, but it can make calls and text people.” The device had the same fruit-looking logo as the computer and it lit up similarly. Alfred pressed onto the screen and I peered at the machine in confusion. There was no typewriter or dial. How was he supposed to call someone? I stepped closer to him and saw the numbers in columns. Alfred typed in a sequence and it opened to the “Apps” of the device, or at least that’s what Alfred calls them. He clicked on a red one and it opened to an application that I found on safari, “Yelp”. Alfred searched for a breakfast diner. Apparently this is what today’s technology is stuck on, the “touch-screen”. It is an improvement, but a small one. Perhaps every small step will lead this world into an era of relying on electricity completely and then all I would have to do is pull the plug. 

Alfred drove us to the diner and I ordered everything on the menu that wasn’t meat. I was starving for some good food and the diner would beat prison food anyday. Alfred ordered some waffles and waited for me to finish before we went to a barber. I got my hair back to how I liked it, down to the tips of my ears and parted to the left. After paying for the haircut, we got back onto the road. It took a few hours to get to the White House and get through all of the security checks. Alfred walked into the Oval office and introduced me, queueing me to come in. The new boss was definitely a shock. There was a nigger sitting in the President’s chair.

I introduced myself and then whispered to Alfred, “Why is there a colored man in the boss’s seat?”

He shushed me, mentioning something about how the times have changed. Alfred turned back to the President, “He was wondering on how he could repay you. I mean, who knows how many strings you had to pull in order to convince Congress to free him.” He laughed nervously, trying to cover up my question.

“It was no easy task, especially since when they first mentioned you, Allen, as a discrete weapon. I asked Alfred about you and he told me that you were like him, so I thought why in the world would we lock away something like Alfred? So here we are. There’s no need to thank me. I only thought what was the most human thing to do. I just hope you ask more of us. After all, you’ve been alone for a long time and this new world must be quite overwhelming.” He smiled at the two and waited for me to respond.

“Yes, thank you, sir. I mean, I will, Mr. President.” I bowed in respect.

“Please call me, Obama. My title may be Mr. President, but I am simply Barrack Obama.” He smiled again before the security began to escort us out.

“Barrack Obama, huh. I don’t remember finding that name on safari.” Alfred glanced at me and smiled.

“So what’d ya think? Pretty cool, right? He’s totally hip, but the media is skeptical of him but I know he’s trying hard for us.” Alfred walked back to the car, chatting about the new boss.

“I guess, he’s okay. It’s just a little weird seeing a colored man in the Oval office. It’s just going to take me a while to get used to all of this.” We got back in the car and headed to the mall. After shopping in stores from my time to ones I have never seen before, we stocked up on my wardrobe. Arriving home late, we both were ready for sleep. I asked Alfred to use the computer again and he agreed. It had shut off so I had to recharge it with a detachable cord. Alfred typed in his password and pulled up safari. I continued my research on America and other countries. I soon learned about different ways to connect with others such as social media and e-mail. I created an account and wasn’t sure what to do next. I guess the second step of the plan will have to wait.


	6. Simply British

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Language

“Everything seems to be in order.” The butlers were standing in place, the kitchen was busy preparing breakfast, and the maids were tidying up while waking the royal members from their slumber. My meeting with the British parliament is around three o’clock. I paced through the corridors of Buckingham Palace, searching for a particular member of the staff. If he wasn’t in his room, I could be certain of him taking a leisurely stroll through the garden. 

I was correct, a redheaded chap was smelling the roses as little butterflies fluttered around his flowery-pink vest and baby blue bow tie. I couldn’t contemplate that while I was in America, he had taken my place and somehow no one got hurt. I simply wanted to test his sense of responsibility, but how could someone so carefree doesn’t fail?

“Ah, good morning Mr. Kirkland,” the cheery voice sang as I approached closer. “How did the world meeting go?”

“It went much more efficient than expected. Alfred seemed to have some sort of motivation to finish early. How was it, being (sort of) in charge of the staff?” I asked, not really anticipating an indifferent answer since I provided every item, each engrossed with detail, that he would need to complete. Even if he managed to forget something, the other members of the royal staff would know what to do.

The ginger lad stood up straight and spoke excitedly, “Oh, it was marvellous! The staff was so nice and they did everything in the list for me.”

“List?” I don’t remember writing down anything.   
“Oh, yes! After you left, it was hard to keep every specification in my head so I wrote it down!” He pulled out a stack of paper that was somehow held in his sweater vest. “It’s a list of everything you’ve asked of me to accomplish so I showed it to the staff and they were very gracious to help me.” He smiled at me, I could’ve sworn I saw a wagging tail.

“I guess that’ll do the trick.” Trying not to praise him too much for not destroying the palace, I cleared my throat, “Although, please remember that it is much more professional to have the essentials of one’s duty memorised.” I gave back the list and started my way to the door that led back inside.

“Mr. Kirkland?” The chap called out, chasing after me.

“Yes, Oliver?” I tried not to groan, praying he wouldn’t remember. I took my hand off the doorknob and turned to the lad.

“You promised,” he looked down shyly, shuffling his feet, “that if I did everything correctly, you’d let me in the kitchen.” He looked up at me, attempting to bite his lip to perform the pitiful puppy pout.

Sighing, but not about to go back on a promise, I opened the door and nodded. “I did promise, but you will be watched, okay?” There was no way I was going to let him, of all people, to cook unsupervised. The last time he got the chance, he poisoned everything and almost killed the queen.

“But Mr. Kirkland, I’ve changed! I swear I won’t try anything! It’s been nearly fifty years!” Oliver begged.

I wasn’t going to take any flukes. “Look, Oliver. You can only gain back trust by following one’s reasonable suggestions. My suggestion is that you do exactly as I say or you can kiss your kitchen privileges good-bye.”

Oliver hung his head and walked into the palace, waiting for my instruction. I strode down the hall, taking a few turns and arrived at the kitchen. I told Oliver to wait at the door as I checked on preparations for the day’s meals. He waited patiently, observing the fellow staff as they proceeded with their daily routine chores. The kitchen was quite busy. I had employed several chefs, one for each meal of the day. They each briefed me on their plans for their designated meal. The Queen would later approve of the menu, seeing it fit for her and the guests tastes. As the butlers set the table, the cooks were scrambling together their ingredients onto clean plates to create the perfect English breakfast. I asked the head chef what meals were mostly done and what still needed help. They said the only thing left were the pastries for tea time. I exclaimed I knew of someone who would be willing to help.

“No offence, Mr. Kirkland, but… your cooking is, um…,” the head chef began.

“Your cooking would put the Queen in a coma,” the dishwasher chuckled.

“I was not talking about myself, so sod off!” I barged out of the kitchen, only to drag Oliver back in with me.

“Oliver, here, would like to try making something simple for the afternoon tea. Would that be all right?” I smiled begrudgingly while Oliver grinned sincerely.

“I guess that would be, just be sure not to poison it,” the head chef laughed. Oliver and I laughed along nervously as Oliver was directed to a lesser crowded area of the kitchen with a single stove.

“The ingredients are in the pantry while our fresh fruits, meats, and vegetables that be found in the refrigerator. The pots, pans, and other cookware can be found on racks or in the lower drawers. Anything, utensil or metal, that you use, put it in the sink. Any spoilt food goes into the bin and always keep your hands clean while handling the food. Be sure to let a taste-tester know when you have finished so they can sample your meal before it leaves the kitchen. If you have any questions, ask the head chef last. I think that’s everything. Good luck, lad.” With that, the cook went back to work.

“Best of the British, Oliver,” Before leaving, I told the head chef to keep a close eye on him. As I left the kitchen to attend to my other duties, I glanced at Oliver, who was smiling gleefully with a muffin pan on his stove, a bowl on the counter, and a whisk in his hand.

Breakfast went smoothly and the afternoon came and passed just as easily. The kitchen wasn’t in shambles and no one died. Today was successful… so far. Before heading off to Parliament, I double-checked every single thing, starting with the absolute disappearance of dirt throughout the house to the tidiness of the pathways and plants of the royal garden. Satisfied with only perfection, I began my departure to the Palace Westminster. It was a short walk, hopefully a short meeting as well, but I trusted my staff to get along fine in my absence.

The meeting swiftly changed from briefing me about upcoming events to interviewing my preparedness for the next world meeting to be held next month in London. I was not completely ready since I just recently arrived from America and still had a few weeks to prepare. Nonetheless, they tested me, giving me tips and drowning me in the pile of topics they wished to be discussed at the conference. After jotting down the notes, I assured them that I had everything under control and would construct the most productive convention. Once Parliament adjourned the meeting, I headed outside and was shocked by the sudden change in weather. Rain is to be expected in England, but a downpour such as this would usually be mentioned in the morning’s forecast. I hailed a cab to avoid the rain. The drive to the royal palace took a little longer than usual due to evening traffic.

Upon my arrival, the royal family had just finished supper. The staff completed the remaining few tasks in their duties before heading to the servant’s quarters. I only had a few butlers stick around to help the kitchen, which is where I was off to next. I popped in to see how dinner plans were going and if Oliver was knackered yet. The whole kitchen staff had apparently fallen in love with Oliver within the few hours I was gone. They praised his cooking skills, soon bringing him out of a shy shell and releasing his even more alluring charm. I guess it would be nice for the chap to make a few friends instead of bothering me all day for a single chore. Oliver helped bake the desserts and promptly left after his work was finished.

Oliver walked with me as I escorted him to his room for his curfew, shaking my hand with gratitude, “Thank you so much, Mr. Kirkland! You have my eternal gratefulness! You, Mr. Kirkland, are the bees knees!” He skipped off to his sleeping quarters, bowing graciously to his night guards before going inside. I nodded to the two at his bedroom door as I did my final rounds around the palace.

The following morning was less hectic, allowing for me to get back into the routine of things. This day, however, Oliver was determined to make more friends throughout the palace. He would say good morning with a smile to all who passed him . I caught him in the gardens, admiring the lilies and buzzing bees. I wondered if he wanted to help the gardeners. On hot days, such as today, I am quite sure the landscapers would appreciate a few extra hands. Oliver waved at me, greeting me with a friendly smile. He bounded over to say hello.

“Good morning, Mr. Kirkland,” he said. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” The sun lit up his lavender polo shirt, making it stand out amongst the brightly-coloured shrubs and flowers. 

“I’m about to check on the gardeners…, would you like to lend a hand?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, boy, would I?” I’d do anything you asked of me, Mr. Kirkland!” He was on the verge of bouncing up and down.

“Yes, well, come along then.” I led him to the storage unit first, searching around for the tools he would need. I found a pair of hand pruners and loppers. Handing him the smaller clippers, “Go around and trim all of the flowers, prune them until they are absolutely perfect.” I gave him a pair of gardening gloves, “Be sure not to get pricked and do not forget to pull any weeds you happen to see.” I walked outside and glanced at the trees. “Ask the landscapers if they have attended to the shrubs and trees yet, if not, continue your job with the lopper; those are better for the trees because they have longer handles and can cut through a thicker stem.”

Oliver nodded and got right to work, eager to help out as much as he could. I guess it’s not so bad to have such a person as himself, given his background, to help my staff every now and then.

As the days passed, Oliver’s amount of friends within the staff continued to increase. Every time I gave him a duty he managed to befriend every employee within that field of work. I thought the kitchen staff and gardeners were enough, but apparently there’s plenty of Oliver to go around. It isn’t terrible, though, just bothersome. The butlers praise his ability to polish; The maids prattle on about his gentlemanly nature and princely charms; The kitchen obsesses, overwhelmingly, about his culinary skills. And if that isn’t enough, I believe the royal pets also prefer him over me. Um, I mean, what am I getting at? I keep going on about these frivolous details that have no deeper meaning. I’m overthinking everything, yes, that’s all. He’s just a little more sociable than I, nothing wrong with that. There are some things he can do that I cannot, and vice versa. Rubbing my temple, I proceeded with my timely checkups with each of the head staff members of the different departments. The world meeting was only a few weeks away and nothing could go wrong within that time frame.

“Mr. Kirkland!” A voice shrilled.

“Yes, miss?” One of the maids bowed in front of me, panting from the possibility of running and searching for me throughout the palace.

“I have terrible news!”

Oh, bollocks, someone just wanted me to suffer, it seemed. “What is it?” I asked, trying not to think of the worst situation.

“There’s a dreadful flu spreading among the royal guards! Many of them have been sent to the hospital! We don’t have enough to complete the tradition of the changing of the guards tomorrow morning! I don’t know who— Mr. Kirkland, where are you going?”

Finally, the one thing I could be certain of. I have had enough of this bloody betrayal. I should’ve known it was all an act. That minging cad will rot in the dungeon for the rest of his days for as long I am the United Kingdom. The maid scampered after me as I burst into the kitchen.

“Oliver!” My voice altered with pride and rage that was rapidly swelling in my chest.

“Y-yes, Mr. Kirkland?” He looked at me, curiously. The kitchen staff peered at the entrance, bewildered by the infamous temper.

“Answer me honestly, Oliver, or so help me, I’ll give you a worse punishment than the iron maiden.”

“What is it?” He mimicked the expression of that of a deer caught in headlights, completely startled by my intimidating threat.

“Have you poisoned the royal guards?” I asked with a tone to be reckoned with.

“… Poisoned? I have no such intent! I don’t even cook for the royal guards, Philip does! Oh butterscotch, Philip, did you give them the turkey?” Oliver, as well as the rest of the occupants in the kitchen, turned to chef in charge of every supper.

“I, um, I m-might have.” Horror struck his face as he scurried to the refrigerator and pulled out a molding meat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Philip, we all told you not to leave the turkey out this morning! You fed them turkey sandwiches and put the meat back into the refrigerator no less than an hour ago!” The head chef scolded. He turned from the trembling cook to the door, “And another thing, Mr. Kirkland! I’ve been keeping my eye on Oliver and he’s been an absolute saint amid all of us. You have no right to accuse Oliver unless you have proof of his guilt.” The cooks huffed in agreement, gazing at me disapprovingly.

“Well, I just… it doesn’t matter, carry on.” Storming out, I went to find work to busy myself and distract me from this embarrassment. How dare they tell me I have no right? I know Oliver’s past better than any of them! I have all rights to have suspicions about that twit. They may have been manipulated by his captivating personality. I won’t be fooled, though. I will be right one day, they’ll see! Oliver can be most dreadful and they’ll plead me to save them from his cruelty. They’ll swear to never doubt my allegations again. I’ll make them know about Oliver’s true self.

“Good evening, Arthur,” a gentle voice proclaimed.

I paused at the familiarity of my name and brought myself out of these whirling thoughts. I was facing a wall, inches from my muzzle. I turned around to see the queen, elegantly dressed for an evening walk. “Ah, yes,” I tried to think of an appropriate response. “Good evening, your majesty,” I bowed as gracefully as I could. Her highness rarely explores the palace due to work and continuous ceremonies. In the evening, she usually reads reports from Parliament. I guess they didn’t do much today.

“Lovely weather we’re having, would you like to accompany me for a stroll in the garden? I haven’t seen the sunset in quite a while. As you may know, I live a very busy life.” She smiled brilliantly, neatly approaching the door to the gardens.

“Of course, your majesty,” I opened the door and escorted her for a leisurely walk. She took her time, grasping a few roses and smelling their sweet scent, happily engaging me in conversation.

“The flowers are so beautiful, the gardeners must have outdone themselves today.” She, Queen Elizabeth the second, admired the flowers and rested in the alcove under a fair-sized arbour.

“I had Oliver help them today since it was rather warm. I thought he might be able to help them finish early.” I mentally cursed myself for bringing up the man who almost killed the leader of my country who was idly sitting next to me.

“Oliver? Oh, the new kitchen boy, such a nice, young chap.” She smiled tenderly.

Nice? Oliver? Has the Queen forgotten what crime he was accused of? Has she forgiven him? That’s impossible! There’s simply no way that she forgave Oliver for killing three taste-testers, several chefs, and the butlers from fifty years ago! He was so sly, tricking nearly everyone to try his newest creation that led to their sluggish demise.

“Arthur, I haven’t forgotten,” the Queen announced, drawing me back to her attention. “You must forgive the past to move on with the future. I believe Oliver is doing his best to right his wrongs and we should give him the opportunity to do so. You may have your separate grudges against him, but please allow him a chance to prove himself trustworthy. He’s not so bad once you see the good in him. He even made the corgis little treats, isn’t he sweet?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and from the Queen, no less. I guess there was no point in fighting against the grain. Everyone seemed to love Oliver, despite my knowledge of his unforgivable actions in the past. I bid the Queen a good night before seeing the employees off to their sleeping quarters. It was barely past midnight and I could not get a wink of sleep. The men guarding Oliver’s door assured me that he had not left his room ever since they started the job. Their task was only possible because the dungeons of Windsor castle were too mediaeval of a rest area when he wasn’t exactly a prisoner. I wasn’t sure what Oliver was, certainly not a guest. I mostly found it annoying to drive all the way over to the castle and down to the dungeons to check on him daily. The extra room with no windows in the palace was more of a convenience for me than a reward for him. He should consider himself lucky I didn’t throw him into the streets. Then again, I would’ve had no way of knowing if he was causing havoc in my lands. As I fought my thoughts to leave me be, I slept poorly and felt extremely groggy the next morning. I kept up with my work, only becoming more wary of Oliver.

My eyes felt heavier as I did my best to stay focused on the task at hand. However, my work was difficult to accomplish with distracting voices. The staff cafeteria was filled with those on break, from the horse caretakers to the maids to the restorers of the furniture. I was walking inside, dealing with the secretary and his complications with the royal events. He argued that I had recalled the ceremonies in the wrong order, resulting in the calendar to be incorrect and thus confusing. Many overheard this conversation as I tried to finish my lunch quickly and deal with the timing of the events.

“Have you noticed?” A servant whispered to a maid next to her.

“Mr. Kirkland? His irritableness is certainly distinct. Just this morning, I dusted the art canvases and he totally went off on me…”

“Well, yes, but also his clumsiness. He’s usually a perfectionist, but lately, he has made the simplest mistakes.” The women continued to chatter about utter nonsense. I mess up one time, I blow up one time, that means nothing. I’m only doing my best as I do every day. 

“Anyway, have you seen the new kitchen boy? He’s so handsome and his food is marvellous! I believe he may have a chance at head chef,” the servants giggled in delight.

“Oh, I know, he’s a darling, so much kinder than Mr. Kirkland. I hope he becomes a regular here, but knowing the rumours, Mr. Kirkland may have other plans for him, such a shame. It would be nice if Oliver could become the new Chief Manager of the royal staff. I’m sure Mr. Kirkland has plenty of other jobs as the Queen’s assistant.” They sighed and continued to dream about that redheaded git. 

This continued for days, dreaming of Oliver’s wrath or not sleeping at all to the daily gossip. After the fifth day, I gave up on sleep and searched for a pub to erase these envious thoughts. I stumbled upon The Market Tavern and ordered a scotch on the rocks. I stayed until one in the morning and decided that I had had enough to drink. The palace was close so I had no trouble getting back. The next day I stayed much later and they ended up calling the head butler of the palace, Samuel, to come and retrieve me from the pub. The royal guards of the front gate weren’t approving of my unprofessional behaviour. They weren’t very pleased to see me the next night, notifying me that they closed earlier than I tended to stay in. I tried to convince them that I would be on my way after one drink, but I couldn’t help it. Oliver this, Oliver that, this whole week the employees couldn’t shut up about that prat! The bartender tried to comfort me as I accidentally said these thoughts aloud.

“Well, maybe he isn’t a prat, ever thought of that?” Oh shite, even this pub who only knows Oliver through my babbling thinks he isn’t a bloody tosser.

“Piss off, you twit,” I clung to the empty glass, eyeing it as if more liquor would magically appear. The fairies would be of no help, they always leave my presence when I become a drunken stupor.

“I think you’ve had enough, sir. We are closing up soon so I suggest you be on your way,” he said with subtle touchiness as he retrieved my glass.

I scoffed in an offended tone and stumbled drunkenly from my bar stool. I walked off into the streets of London, in search of another bar who would agree with me. Given my current state of mind, my gentlemanly tact had fled the scene making way for catcalls and rude gestures toward strangers in the night. I came home with a black eye and the front guards seemed to be less impressed than usual. I headed to my bed, exhausted and welcoming to sleep with any kind of dreams.

“Mr. Kirkland, this isn’t healthy,” Samuel, the head butler said. He looked at me with concern as I tried to not squint in reply.

“Since when the bloody pish has any of you cared for my health?” I had a migraine to tend to and dealing with Samuel’s insincere words was not on my list of things to take care of. I hurried off to the pharmacy to buy some pain killers and did my best to finish my work. Suddenly, I realised what day it was, the world meeting was only a couple of days away! I still had so much to prepare for. I put Samuel in my place for the day and locked myself in the study.

“Mr. Kirkland, what is the meaning of this? The staff is sick of you throw yourself into alcoholism! Get out here and do your job!” The head chef banged on my door, not bettering my headache at all. Apparently, news travels fast among the guards.

“No thanks! I have more important matters to attend to at the moment.” I buried my thoughts into the presentation I would give, praying the cook would leave. Eventually, he did, but someone else replaced him.

“Mr. Kirkland, are you well?” Oliver’s voice inquired softly. His shadow slipped under the door by the hallway light.

“I’m fine, Oliver. Just get back to work.” Fucking hell, he is the last person I want to pity me. He’s the cause of my restlessness.

“Is there anything I can do?” His tone was earnest.

“Make sure everyone gets along, okay?” I sighed. I didn’t have anything for him to do, nor did I want to waste my time trying to make up something. I need him out of my hair if I want a fluke at concentrating. His steps echoed as he left my door. Why is everyone suddenly paying attention to me? I am doing fine, great in fact! I take excellent care of my body. I’m sure Oliver just asked them to pester me. No one gives a real damn about my well-being. I’m no idiot, I can see right through their hoaxes. I know Oliver is better than me at a lot of things. I understand they all prefer him. I wonder why I even try sometimes. Before I knew it, it was evening and I was back at the local pub. I wanted to do nothing, think of nothing, and numb my entire being.


	7. A Dreaded Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: British Spelling

I arose from my peaceful slumber at half past seven. My darling kitty, Cupcake, was purring softly beside me. Today was a new day, and I couldn’t wait to see what it had in store for me. I dressed myself accordingly with the predicted weather (one can’t wear sweater vests and polos forever, hah). After buttoning up my mint green cardigan, I walked to the cafeteria to fetch something for Cupcake and me to eat. No one is allowed to have cats within the palace due to the royal pets, but I simply couldn’t leave my precious out in the rain. I snuck a few strips of bacon and a couple of cartons of milk from the counters before I dashed back to my room. My poor kitty gets terribly loud when he’s hungry and we can’t have my guards hearing such a voice. I smiled at the two as I closed my door and placed the food wrapped in a napkin on the ground.

“Here, Cupcake, I have breakfast,” I whispered gently. The lofty feline stretched its limbs out on the bed as it strutted towards the food. It sniffed once before turning its nose.

“You must eat something. I promise to get you some fresh fish later, alright?” With another questioning look at the meal, the cat began to munch on the meat.

I unfolded my napkin to an assortment of mini muffins and bacon. After eating, I assured Cupcake that I would return as promised with a proper lunch. I walked around the palace, starting to notice a slight irregularity. Mr. Kirkland was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t criticising anyone’s work or fuming down the halls ranting about a beginner’s mistake. I checked the kitchen and the gardens, but he wasn’t there. I went to the drawing rooms and ballrooms, but he was nowhere. It couldn’t be possible, but perhaps, he was still in bed? What if he didn’t make it to bed? What if Mr. Kirkland went out drinking again and got lost while trying to come home? Oh, no, nothing like that could happen! Before thinking of other situations Mr. Kirkland could have gotten himself into, I rushed to his bedroom door and knocked. Samuel, the head butler, stopped in the middle of the hallway to watch me. He must’ve been as surprised as I to think that our royal manager was still asleep.

A muttering of sorts was heard beyond the door, but nothing comprehensible. I tried again, only to be replied with the same noise but louder. I knocked once more and I heard a stumbling across the bedroom.

“The bloody hell do you want?” The door opened to reveal a distraught Mr. Kirkland. Someone owed the swear jar a shilling.

“I was just wondering how you were,” I said kindly. Mr. Kirkland was in no mood for tall tales so I kept my sincerity top-notch.

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic,” he left the door open as he wobbled back into bed. Samuel gave me a look of hopelessness and shook his head. I wasn’t about to give up so I followed my counterpart inside. Samuel sighed and returned to his duties, assuming Mr. Kirkland’s job until his health and sanity returned.

“Mr. Kirkland, what are you doing?” I stood next to his bed as he crawled back under the sheets and turned away from me.

“I’m not doing anything today so don’t try to talk me out of it,” he huffed, closing his eyes to return to a dreamlike state.

“I won’t, but what about the staff? Surely they’ll be worried or confused. What do we tell them?” I had no idea what was wrong with the poor man. His voice was raspy from the lack of proper nutrients and water, his hair was mangled from a restless sleep, and his eyes were all baggy with one still holding a fair bruise.

“Tell them what you will! I don’t give a damn. They’ll believe anything you say, hell, they’ll love seeing you in charge. You know what, do exactly that. Take my place, see if I care.” He sounded rather harsh in tone, but his eyes were deceiving his voice.

“If that will please you, then I will.” I gazed upon him once more.

“Yes, it would very much please me,” his eyes narrowed. He pondered over a disconsolate reality and slowly regained his consciousness.

“What do I do?”

Over the next hour or so, Arthur graciously went into detail of his daily routine from coordinating the employees to arranging the royal calendar. His other duties included meeting with Parliament upon their call and always putting the Queen requests first.

“Before I forget, there’s a meeting with the other countries. The briefcase on my desk contains all of the details I need you to cover. Study the notes and go to the meeting place. The driver will know where to go,” he squinted at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “You have two hours until the conference. Don’t dilly-dally and rehearse your presentation until everyone arrives, but be sure to eat lunch.”

“Lunch?!” I quickly grasped the briefcase, “Thank you very much, Mr. Kirkland! I won’t let you down!”

He waved absently as he crawled back under the covers while I scurried out the door. 

Then I remembered about Cupcake. He’s going to be blooming narked, or even worse, have himself caught! I went to the cafeteria and piled the tuna and salmon onto a plate, then I rushed back to my room. The guards eyed me curiously.

“Eating in the bedroom again, are we? I’m sure the maids would love to complain about the crumbs to Mr. Kirkland.” The guard on the left snickered.

My face flushed, but then I recalled Mr. Kirkland gave me (half of) his position until he recovers his health. “Well, they can take it up with me! Mr. Kirkland has divided his managing position between Samuel and me.” With that, I pushed through them to enter my room.

“Samuel I can understand, he is the one who’s worked here the longest. But Oliver, everyone knows Mr. Kirkland isn’t very fond of him.” The guard whispered behind the door as the other hummed in agreement.

I walked over with the food to Cupcake. The poor feline meowed insistently, pawing at my slacks in impatience. I placed the food in front of him, petting him as he ate and promising him I would return later that night. He purred in response and ate every piece of fish before I put it on the small table where the maids would notice it. I begged my kitty to stay out of sight while I headed out of the room to the front of the palace gates.

The driver was confused at first, but as I pointed to the briefcase and mentioned an international meeting he somehow knew where to go. The building was quaint and compact. It fit within the heart of London, but had a rustic look compared to the common business buildings. I walked inside and greeted the secretary. The lobby was large with sofas and historical photographs on each side. There were two hallways on each side of the secretary and doors filled them for as far as you could see.

“Hello,” I smiled to the secretary.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” She didn’t look up from her computer as she typed at an alarming pace.

“I was hoping you could tell me where the conference room for the international meeting can be located?”

The typing stopped, she peered at me sceptically. “Name?”

“I don’t think the reservation is under my name.“

“No, I mean country name.” She rolled her eyes and pulled out a binder that held the calendar.

“Why, England, of course!” I beamed at her.

“You certainly don’t look like Arthur, I thought some new country came too early. Who are you?” She put the binder away and looked through the contacts of a small booklet.

“I am Oliver. Mr. Kirkland is sick so he has sent me in his place.” I gulped nervously. He never told me about security precautions. “Would you like to call one of the employees or Mr. Kirkland himself to confirm?”

She stared at me for a minute before sighing and putting the booklet away. “No, I’m sure if he did send you, he must be really ill. No reason to bother him.” She pointed to the hallway on my right side, “Last door on the right, take the stairs down, first door on your right and bathrooms are on the left.” She took one last glance at me before the typing continued.

“T-thank you.” She nodded at me as I began my way to the stairwell.

The meeting room was tidy and overwhelmingly professional. It has been quite a while since I have familiarised myself with the politics of the world. I haven’t seen another human country besides England since the mid-1900s. I unlatched the briefcase and inspected the contents within. I arranged everything onto the large table and pulled the easel from the corner of the room to my side. I memorised the topics of the meeting and the crucial information Mr. Kirkland wrote down on each note. I read and reread the notes and details as the humanoid representatives of the G8 or NATO or whatever they call themselves now arrived. I took a deep breath as they filed in and chose their seats.

“Greetings, my name is-“

“Ollie?”

I paused at the mention of my old nickname and searched the room, unsure if I heard correctly.

“Oliver, is that you?” There was no mistake, he was sitting next to a blond lad who seemed tense.

“Allie? I mean, Allen?”

“In the flesh,” he cracked a cheeky grin. My old friend was here in England, sitting in a meeting room meant for the more agreeable representatives.

“Who are you? America, who is that?” The man who represented Germany spoke up.

“He’s Allen,” the blond pointed at my old chum. “My boss wants us to get along, so he suggested we go to meetings together now. The dude who’s hosting, I have no idea, but he looks familiar.”

“As I was saying, my name is Oliver and-“

“Oliver, huh? Why isn’t Artie here?” The American cut in. Allen nudged him and looked at me, giving me a thumbs up. Oh, dear, I suppose today will be a long one. I smiled patiently as I answered the question on everyone’s mind.

“Now that I have your full attention, my name is Oliver and I am here because Mr. Kirkland is not feeling well. As the counterpart of England and by Mr. Kirkland’s request, I will be taking his place.” Many of them seemed suspicious of this statement. They all have counterparts and consider them all to be comparably insidious.

“Artie isn’t feeling well?” The American scoffed, “I wonder who’s fault that is.” He glared at me, unwilling to see me as anything else than a criminal for a crime I have not committed.

“Alfie, lighten up. You know how much that Brit loves to work, he might finally be feeling the pain of his labour. Besides, Oliver here wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Allen tried to pat the American into a relaxed state, but his actions were doing the exact opposite.

“I suppose so,” the representative of our former colony exclaimed, not looking entirely convinced.

“Now then, Mr. Kirkland’s notes state his worries for the future generations of our world. As you all may know, the overall environment of the earth is steadily getting worse,” I proclaimed. From there, other countries added commentary about how “global warming” wasn’t real or how these suggested changes may affect crucial industries. They were mostly more concerned for their businesses than the environment. The only one who seemed to be listening intently was Allen. After going through the most important points of Mr. Kirkland’s notes I called for a break, which everyone was more than thankful for.

Allen approached me as I sat for a quick breath. He patted my back and praised my attempt to lead the conference.

“I think you did great! Would you like to grab lunch with us, Ollie?” My stomach grumbled at the thought of a proper meal. Allen laughed heartily and grabbed my hand, leading us to his counterpart. 

My stomach grumbled at the opportunity for something that was more than a snack. Allen laughed and asked if Mr. Jones would allow me to join them for a bite. The American winced at Allen’s smile and nodded. I pondered about his behaviour around my old friend and if he held any grudges against either of us.

The three of us walked outside the conference building and searched for a place to eat. Mr. Jones apparently had some sort of device that could lead us straight to one. Mr. Kirkland has in the past informed me of today’s technology such as the one utilised by Jones, however he preferred the use of classic dial telephones in the palace. It provided the means to prevent me from contacting anyone, or so the man has said whenever I have broached the subject. I had yet to see the “smart phone” in person until now. I know I still have a ways to go before earning his complete trust, but a small device that could hold the instruction of many cookbooks sounded marvellous!

Once we were seated in a diner, Allen chatted with me. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!” Allen announced as he hugged me. “I still can’t believe how that old party pooper let you take his job,” he leaned in close to me to whisper, “I mean after all you did try to kill the Queen.” 

“Excuse me, but I do recall that whole fiasco being your idea and if even you weren’t held responsible, I did my time in the dungeons, literally.” I folded my arms and pulled away from his embrace.

“Aw, Ollie, let’s not fuss over the details. I’m just playin’. You know I like teasing you.” He winked at me playfully as the server placed our meals down.

I felt around my pockets and gasped, “Oh butterscotch! I’ve forgotten my wallet.” I looked down at the plate and pushed it away while my stomach growled.

“No fear, daddy-o! Alfie, you wouldn’t mind helping out my pal, would ya? I promise to be extra good for the rest of the day,” he grinned with pleading eyes. Mr. Jones sighed and agreed to pay for everyone’s meals. He quietly ate his burger while Allen nudged me.

“Thank you,” I said as I pulled the plate of fish n’ chips toward me and ate gratefully.

After lunch, we headed back to the conference room. I studied the documents of the briefcase as everyone took their time arriving. The meeting continued for another two hours before all of their questions were answered. Mr. Kirkland knew his colleagues well and predicted most of the questions and had prepared detailed responses to answer them effectively.

Allen came up to me before Mr. Jones realised the meeting was over and needed to get out of the comfortable chair.

“Hey, Ollie,” Allen looked shyly at me.

“Hello, Allie,” I thanked him for encouraging me during the meeting, whether through a thumbs up or an attempt to help me find the right words while the other members remained quiet in an intimidating manner.

“Anytime! But I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

“Of course, Allen. I don’t know how else to repay you for lunch,” I smiled warmly.

“Sweet! I was hoping you could give this letter to my favourite red. You know, Vlad. I’m going back to America soon and I won't have enough time to find him,  especially with Alfie breathing down my neck. It’s not like all of the counterparts are just roaming freely in their own land like James,” he laughed dryly. He handed me a small envelope.

“I’ll make sure this gets to him.” I hugged Allen and he accepted it. He left with Mr. Jones as I gathered my belongings and placed them neatly into the briefcase. I looked at the envelope curiously and carefully put it into my jacket pocket.

Climbing up the stairs was easy enough, but returning to the palace was another process. I did not have a way to contact the driver nor was I sure how far away my destination was. As I made my way to the lobby, my eyes drifted upon the phone on the secretary’s desk. I asked politely if I could use it and she didn’t refuse, remaining attentive to her work. I picked up the handset and looked at the number pad. I then realized I had no idea what to do. I’ve never operated a phone before, making it even less likely for me to have memorised the phone number of the royal palace.

“Excuse me,” I shyly peered at the secretary behind the counter.

“Just push 9 and then type in the number,” she said this as if I knew what she was talking about. What did the number nine do? 

“I’m sorry, but I actually don’t know the number. Would you happen to know what I would dial to contact the palace driver?”

“I knew it! You aren’t with England! I’m going to call the real Mr. Kirkland and have this whole mess sorted. Don’t you dare move,” she snatched the phone from my hand and pressed a series of numbers before eyeing me accusingly.

“Hello? Yes, this is Charlotte from Council Connect Corporation. I’d like to speak with Mr. Kirkland. Yes, I’ll wait...Hello? Oh, Samuel, yes. What do you mean? Well, there’s this man who is...yes, but how did you-? Oh, alright. He needs a driver. I understand, thank you.” She hung up the phone and turned to me, practically fuming.

“Your driver will be here shortly. Please have a seat until they arrive,” she said flatly. She plopped back down in her seat and sighed before returning to her computer.

I took a seat near the door, leaning back on the sofa and placing my head on the window. The magazines were similar to those the maids kept around the palace, always gossiping about celebrities and such. I noticed small black domes attached to the ceiling and, by their positions, I would have to say that they definitely improved the security systems. I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees. The letter in my jacket was poking at my chest and created a small lump beneath the material. I slid my hand into the pocket and pulled out the envelope. The back had a scribbled address on it containing the name “Vlad”. I flipped it to the other side and saw that the fold was tucked in and not sealed. I’ve known Allen for a long time and when he sent me letters over the colonial period they were always sealed. He would never make a mistake when keeping something a secret. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be a secret? Even so, I should hardly be looking at someone’s words for another. Then again, this is Allen. This could be some precaution for anything that may happen on its journey to Russia. I should still make sure it’s secure so the contents don’t crumble.

The short burst of honking nearly made me drop the envelope. I collected my things, placing the letter back into my pocket, and walked out the door. The driver got out of the car to greet me and handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it.

“That’s my work cell. You can call that instead of the palace’s private line,” he smiled before opening the back door of the vehicle. I stepped inside and placed the briefcase on my lap while he closed the door and returned to the driver’s seat. The ride home was a comfortable silence, peering out the window as the buildings flashed past my eyes.

After parking near the front gate of the palace, I approached the guards to go through basic security checks before walking into the royal vicinity. Firstly, I needed to check on Cupcake. He must be terribly lonely and may not be used to me having such responsibilities outside of the gates. To my disappointment, the guards remained stationed at my bedroom door. I was quite hopeful that this new position would allow them to see me as someone worthy of having privacy. I guess not. They did not speak as I passed through my door.

“Cupcake? Oh, where are you my love?” I tossed up the covers, searched the closet, and under the bed. A sudden weight on my foot notified me that he had come out of hiding.

“Hello, darling. I’m sorry I’ve been gone all day. This new job is going to have me running all over the country! I hope you can forgive me.” I picked up the feline while he clawed at arms before pausing and licking at my thumbs. I smiled and kissed his forehead as I held him close to my chest. After a small hiss, I placed him back on the floor and headed back to the door.

“I promise to be back for bedtime. I have a few things to do before I can rest peacefully,” I blew a kiss as he meowed at me.

I knocked on the white wood and held the briefcase at my side. There was no answer so I assumed he was asleep. I stepped inside Mr. Kirkland’s bedroom and put the briefcase on his desk. Beside the briefcase was a small computer and a stack of papers. On a shelf connected to the desk, there was an organised pile of envelopes. They were pre-made with different addresses and the same return address of the palace. Under each small stack were labels from the country of America to the Islands of Japan. I picked up an envelope from the Russian pile and whited out the name on the address. I grabbed a pen from a cup and wrote, “Vladimir Braginsky”. 

I took the smaller envelope from my pocket and pushed it into the bigger one. I sealed it and wondered where I would I put it. The stirring of a duvet reminded me of someone that may know the answer. I walked to the bed and knelt next to my counterpart who was struggling to stay asleep.

“Mr. Kirkland,” I whispered. He groaned, but did not answer.

“Mr. Kirkland,” I gently poked his arm above the sheets.

“Do you have a death wish?” He growled lowly.

“No, but I was wondering on how I send this letter. Do you know where I can find a post office?” I asked gently.

“What letter? Whatever it is, just put it on my desk. There should be a shelf with two levels. The top is for incoming and the bottom is outgoing. If you want it to be sent, the errand boy will pick it up from the bottom shelf and take it to the postman. Now, leave me in peace.” He tucked the sheets over him and drifted into a snooze. I searched for the shelf he described and placed the envelope into the outgoing box. I quietly closed the door before heading to the kitchen to see what I could do to help the staff.

Samuel was busy directing the staff all around and bustling through the hallways, making sure no one was slacking off. He was doing an excellent job as Mr. Kirkland’s stand-in. Everyone respected him and wished for a quick recovery for Mr. Kirkland. While he conducted the staff on what to do for the days to come, I went into the kitchen to see that dinner was nearly ready.

“Hello, Oliver! Haven’t seen you in a while, what have you been up to?” The chef asked. He was watching the taste-testers approve the meal before putting the dishes onto a cart.

“Well, I guess one thing I did today was go to a meeting in place of Mr. Kirkland. Other than that, I am mostly trying to stay out of trouble,” I laughed gently. The cooks looked at me as if I grew another head.

“You went to a meeting? Was it an important one?” The dishwasher seemed to be implying something.

“It was an international meeting that Mr. Kirkland was supposed to host, but I did as well as I could in his stead.” I huffed, trying not to let the tone of an employee get to me.

“Ada boy, Oliver! That’s what we like to hear! I’m sure you did marvellous, after all, Mr. Kirkland doesn’t let just anyone go to one of those international meetings, especially when he’s the one hosting.” The head chef smiled brightly as I tried not to become too emotional at the overwhelming compliment.

“Thank you, friend. Now, can I be of any assistance?” I helped them finish the preparations on the last few dishes before starting the recipe for dessert. Once the cooks were done, I grabbed a plate from the servant’s cafeteria and served myself a hearty meal for dinner. I wrapped some extra food in a napkin and hid it in my jacket pocket for my kitty to enjoy once I returned.


End file.
